


Mea Culpa

by YeetTheAngels



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Blasphemy, Dirty Talk, Feelings Realization, M/M, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeetTheAngels/pseuds/YeetTheAngels
Summary: It began with a garden, a fruit, and a pair of lovers.(A sequel toBeata Maria, same au)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit, Vil Schoenheit & Jamil Viper
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	Mea Culpa

The morning dawned upon the town, rousing the inhabitants of the town from their slumber. As the morning sun rose higher in the skies, its rays shone across the faces of two peacefully sleeping individuals. One of them grumbled, instinctively turning away from the light to grasp at the other, who had already awoken from his slumber. 

“Bonjour, mon amour.” Rook brushed a stray lock of his lover’s hair away as he admired the view. “... too early.” Vil ducked under the blankets as Rook rose from the bed. “We must always rise with the morning sun, monsieur Vil! You will get nowhere lazing around like that.” Vil glared bleary-eyed at Rook from his blanket cocoon, still not fully awake. “Not after the night we had, you beast. I’m not leaving your bed till noon.” With that said, he threw the blankets over his head again, choosing to ignore Rook’s laughter. 

As Rook dressed in his priestly garments, Vil lounged around on the bed, admiring the toned physique of his lover. For a man of the cloth, Rook was much more young and fit than what Vil had been expecting. In the morning glow, with his golden locks framing his pale skin, he looked like a painting or a statue come to life, comparable to Pygmalion’s creation. One could say he looked angelic… if not for the bite marks littering his neck and the scratches covering his back. 

“Ah… Vil?” Vil realised with a start that he was staring quite intently at Rook, who had noticed his staring. “Just admiring you, mein priester.” He stretched out his arm and made a “come hither” gesture towards Rook, who happily complied and allowed Vil to drag him down by the collar for a heated kiss. Sadly for Vil, all good things had to come to an end, and Rook needed to give the morning sermon. He waved goodbye to Rook as he left the bedroom, but after the door shut he draped himself over the bed again, the perfect picture of anguish and longing.

“What’s wrong with me… Do I really… love him? I’m a demon, I can’t feel love… ” He clutched the sheets, nearly tearing them apart with his strength. “I guess I’ve won the grand prize for my rotten judgement… No mortal is worth this aggravation… ” He shook his head in dismay. “It’s ancient history, been there, done that.” Flames engulfed his form, and when they faded he was gone, leaving the room empty and devoid of life.

~

_He walked through the garden, grass crunching under his feet. The other person was sitting on the tree, legs swinging idly in the air. In their hands, they clutched a fruit of the tree._

_“Won’t you come up here, Vil?” “No.” Despite being instantly rejected, the other merely laughed in merriment._

_“You’ve asked too many questions.” It wasn’t an accusation, merely a fact._

_“Will you strike me down then?” Vil looked up, watching the battle unfold above them. Fire rained down, setting the grass ablaze._

_In lieu of an answer, the other swung themselves off the branch, landing before Vil with a cat-like grace. They held out a hand to Vil, who put his own in theirs. The other still held the fruit._

_“If they kill us, then so be it.”_

_In the garden, two figures entwined in a lover’s embrace as the world burned up around them._

~

“You look horrible.” Vil looked up from his current experiment to see Jamil leaning over his desk. “I noticed.” He replied dryly as he stirred the mixture, the colour changing from a dark pink to a fluorescent light blue. Jamil tsked, snake-like tongue flicking out. “Who do you think you’re kidding?” Vil opted to ignore him, choosing to concentrate on his experiment, which had turned a lovely lilac. Jamil crossed his arms, his lower body (which was that of a snake’s) coiling up. “You’re in love.” If looks could kill, Jamil would have been dead twice over. Instead, he merely smirked at Vil’s indignation. 

“I hate you, Serpent.” Vil growled, moving to set his experiment over the fire. “Love you too, First Temptress. I’ll see you later.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke as Vil threw the mixture at him, the liquid missing its target and splashing harmlessly against the wall. “Ugh. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than to bother me? Like… take care of that master of his?” Vil grumbled even as he cleaned the mess up with a wave of his hand. “Stupid snake… I’m not… I’m not in love with Rook.”

 _But you are,_ a small voice in the back of his mind whispered to him. His face flushed, whether in embarrassment or in shame, he didn’t know. Teleporting back to his bed, Vil quickly changed out of his lab clothes, but as he changed he caught a glimpse of a darkening hickey on his neck, and he felt his face heat up again. “Arghhhh!” Throwing his coat in a fit of uncharacteristic rage, he blasted the mirror with his magic, shattering it. He stared at the fragments of glass on the floor, seeing himself reflected in them. Picking a larger piece up, he gazed at his reflection, finally facing the truth. 

“I’m… in love with Rook.” he murmured, glass slipping from his hands to the floor, shattering into even tinier pieces.

~

After that, Vil didn’t visit Rook for almost an entire week, too embarrassed and guilty to face him. He busied himself with creating new poisons, ones that could cause the most delicious torment. Yet every night when he was alone in his bed, when he closed his eyes all he could see was Rook. How he constantly praised others for their talents, no matter how small and insignificant. How he was so passionate, so kind, so… beautiful. For the first time in his immortal life, Vil felt remorse. He didn’t want to corrupt Rook, turn him into a monster so far from what he really was, didn’t want Rook to hate him for what he would become.

But it was too late. Rook had knowingly performed carnal acts with him, had known that he was a demon when he fucked him in the confessional. Vil couldn’t have stopped his corruption even if he held the throne of hell. With a heavy heart, he gathered his courage and went back to the church. The moment he stepped in, he could feel eyes on him. It wasn’t time for a sermon, far too late for that, so the only one who would normally be in there would be…

“Monsieur Vil.” He turned around to see the man he had been thinking of all week. Vil nearly flinched at the icy tone of Rook’s voice. He had never heard Rook sound so harsh before, especially to him. “The church is closed today.” “I know, I just-” Rook ignored Vil, walking past him to check the locks on the church doors. The cold shoulder Rook was giving him felt like a stab to the heart. “Rook, I-” “If you have anything to say, monsieur Vil, it can wait till tomorrow.” Vil visibly wilted at Rook’s dismissal. 

Rook knew he was being quite harsh, but Vil _had_ disappeared for an entire week. Didn’t he know just how worried he was? The thought of Vil getting into trouble, of him possibly getting hurt, or even getting killed- His hands tightened around the cloth he was using to wipe down the altar.

A sudden noise drew his attention, and as he faced Vil for the first time since that week he realised something. Vil was crying. His proud, temperamental, immaculate lover looked like a nervous wreck, tears falling even as he muffled his sobs. Noticing his stare, Vil turned away from him, body shaking with suppressed emotions. Without a word, he hurried over and drew Vil into an embrace. 

“I'm- Rook, I'm sorry… ” Vil tried to speak between his sobs, yet Rook hushed him, voice gentle once again. “Désolé, mon amour. C’est ma faute.” “No, it's not!” Vil broke away from the hug. “I… I hurt you…” he wept as his form distorted, nails elongating into claws, fangs sharpening, changing from a beautiful human into something so monstrous it was beautiful. “You… you can’t be corrupted by me… it’s better if I stayed away… “ He had barely begun to leave before Rook pulled him back.

"Tu es tellement magnifique, Vil. Tu brilles plus vivement que n'importe quel ange, et je tournerais volontiers le dos à Dieu simplement pour te vénérer." Rook whispered. “How could you do this to yourself, Rook! I don’t want to see you become a monster like me… “ Vil tried to pull away, but Rook had a firm grip on him. “Because I love you. I would gladly become a monster if it meant being by your side forever. Je t'aime, et continuerai de t'aimer jusqu'à la fin de mes jours, et même après ça, Vil.”

In the arms of his lover, who had turned away from God for him, Vil broke. He clung to Rook, kissing him desperately. “Rook, Rook…” he chanted his name like a prayer, tugging at his cassock. “Vil…” Rook returned the favour, pulling off Vil’s shirt and attacking his neck with fervour, biting and sucking, leaving marks all over his pale skin. 

Between all the pulling and stumbling around, Vil didn’t even notice his surroundings until his back hit the altar, causing him to jerk in surprise. A gentle hand guided him to lean back, and he followed it’s orders. As he watched, Rook took off his cassock and shirt so quickly Vil was sure he would rip them. “Vil…” he growled, the deep tone sending blood rushing to Vil’s steadily growing erection. “Rook, fuck me, please-” Vil tugged off his own pants and undergarments, craving his lover’s touch.

“Patience, patience. Won’t you turn around for me?” Rook murmured, gloved hands caressing Vil’s thighs. Vil complied, turning around and resting his forearms on the altar, the cold marble chilling his heated flesh. A finger circled his entrance, collecting some of the fluids there, before pushing in. He bucked against the altar, nerves sparking with pleasure. 

“Did you touch yourself when you were alone, mon amour? Did you fuck youself open with your own fingers?” Vil’s claws left gouges on the altar’s smooth marble as Rook nipped at his ear, whispering filthy things to him. He arched his back even as one finger turned into two and they spread him open, leaving him wanting for more from his lover.

“Please please please, Rook, mien priester, take me!” Vil cried, restraint long since thrown to the winds. “Patience is the finest virtue, Vil.” Rook seemed keen on taking his sweet time, crooking his long fingers to press against Vil’s prostate, rubbing it in small circles. With each stroke of his fingers, Vil moaned more shamelessly, rutting against Rook like a mindless beast, lost in overwhelming bliss. 

Rook pulled on Vil’s hair, making him look up as he pressed his cock to Vil’s ready entrance, so that Vil was looking directly at the effigy of the Virgin Mary, her blank eyes gazing directly into his own as Rook slid into him with one smooth thrust, cock rubbing against all his sensitive spots, filling him with the most delicious pleasure-pain. Vil gasped for air, feeling so full but so empty at the same time. He needed more, and he knew Rook would give him just what he craved.

His lover set a brutal pace, slamming into him, nailing his prostate with deadly accuracy. As demonic energy swirled around the two, Vil felt nails digging into his hips, the added pain only serving to turn him on further. Each thrust and drag of his lover’s cock only served to send him spiraling further down into the deepest depths of pleasure, and he felt his orgasm soon draw near. 

As he felt the beginnings of his orgasm take hold, Rook leaned down and whispered to him, voice rough with arousal. "How does it feel, losing the right to scream out for God when you're being fucked within an inch of your life within His holy house?" Vil’s eyes widened. For Rook to say such blasphemous things… Later, Vil would be ashamed to admit the effect Rook’s words had on him. But to hear those words coming from Rook, of all people… Vil’s body shook as his orgasm exploded through him. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull, body clenching around Rook’s cock as he saw stars.

“Ahh… meine geliebte… “ Vil sobbed when Rook continued to fuck him through his orgasm, his body now many times more sensitive. He couldn’t even think, mind going completely blank as Rook kept fucking him, and despite having just orgasmed he felt his cock grow hard again. He keened as a particularly hard thrust combined with Rook biting his neck, breaking the skin and drawing blood.

Above them, the statues and frescos silently watched the scene of debauchery unfold. Yet to Vil, it was of no consequence. _Let them watch,_ he thought as the altar cloth became stained with his blood, the red a stark contrast to the white. _Let them watch and judge, it doesn’t matter._ His body shook with the effort to remain standing, but before his knees gave out he was saved by Rook’s firm grasp on his hips. 

Before his second climax, he thinks he can hear Rook’s quiet voice, whispering something to him. Something so very familiar, every syllable tinged with longing, coloured with desire. **“I liken you, my darling, to a mare- among Pharaoh’s chariot horses.”** Vil’s eyes flutter shut, unshed tears dripping onto the marble. He is close, so close to finishing. A distant memory resurfaces unbidden-

_Silken strands of gold slipping through his fingers, long hair cascading around him like a waterfall, joyous laughter as two become one- In a garden of their own, with no one to judge them, the lovers are joined in the most intimate embrace._

_Aah, it’s always been you. Only you can make me lose control like this, meine geliebte. Let the armies of heaven or hell come beating down our doors, but I will not allow you to be taken away from me again. **Never again, mein engel.**_

Vil’s heart is pounding so fast, like it would burst at any second. As his second orgasm washes through his body, he gasps out- **“Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you earrings of gold, studded...with silver.”** He feels Rook reach his own climax behind him, and he wonders just what kind of face he is making. He wants to hug Rook close to himself, to tell him that he won’t leave again- 

_God, if you can still show mercy to this sinner… Won’t you allow me this one happiness?_

~

“This is bad… I have to report this to the higher ups… “ Outside of the church, a young boy runs away, stumbling through the woods. _To think Father Rook would commit such blasphemy… this is the greatest sin! And to think, with a demon! The church will never forgive such an act-_

Before anything else could be thought, he felt a prick on the back of his nape. His hands flew up to cover it, but it was too late. In a few seconds, he collapsed to the forest floor, unable to move. “Hmph.” A low silken voice sounded from above him. “A… a monster!” He tried to move, to run away, but his body failed to respond to his commands. “How rude.” The man- no, not a man, how could he be a man when his lower half was that of a snake’s- dropped down from the treetops and slithered over to him. 

“I’m no monster.” The boy was relieved. Maybe he wouldn’t die here- A scream tore its way out of his throat as a dagger made from pure darkness burst through his chest. As the last vestiges of his life left him, he hears the monster say- **“I’m a demon.”**

Jamil watched the hellfire burn, taking away all evidence that there was once a human there. He sighed. “... You haven’t been this happy for millennia, Vil. Good luck.” He extinguishes the last bits of the fire with a snap of his fingers. “Time to return to that troublesome master of mine… I wonder if he’s figured out my name yet? Well, it doesn’t matter.“ He looked up at the moon, it’s reflected light shining onto him, bathing him in silver.

“In a few months, the war will begin again, and this time there will be no survivors.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: (everything is French except for a few phrases)
> 
> Mon amour = my love
> 
> Mein priester = my priest (German)
> 
> “Désolé, mon amour. C’est ma faute.”  
> “I’m sorry, my love. It’s my fault.”
> 
> "Tu es tellement magnifique, Vil. Tu brilles plus vivement que n'importe quel ange, et je tournerais volontiers le dos à Dieu simplement pour te vénérer."  
> “You’re so beautiful, Vil. You shine brighter than any angel, and I would gladly turn away from God just to worship at your feet.” 
> 
> Je t'aime, et continuerai de t'aimer jusqu'à la fin de mes jours, et même après ça, Vil.”  
> “I love you and will keep loving you til the end of my life, and even after that, Vil.”
> 
> Meine geliebte = my love (German)
> 
> Mein engel = my angel (German)
> 
> thats enough blasphemy for now  
> who am i kidding im always up for more rookvil  
> if i end up writing a 3rd fic im gonna make this an actual series  
> Huge thanks to my platonic wife kyaa for quite a bit of this! Without her it wouldn't be as good as it is right now >w<  
> another person id like to thank is Arisa, my sister in all but blood, who supported me no matter what (even tho i will not send this fic to her)  
> follow me on twt lol  
> https://twitter.com/AngelsYeet


End file.
